


Slip Slidin' Away

by jdrush



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: A Leap for Lisa, AU, Angst, Leap fic, M/M, loves lost and loves found
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:22:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29586498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdrush/pseuds/jdrush
Summary: Sam Beckett and Edward St. John V are happy.  They live together, work together, love together.  But something happens when Sam leaps into Al "Bingo" Calavicci, and he changes not only Al's life, but his own.
Relationships: Sam Beckett/Al Calavicci, Sam Beckett/Edward St. John V
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	Slip Slidin' Away

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Donald Bellisauris, NBC, Bellisauris Productions, and MCA/Universal.  
> AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm slowly posting some of my old stories to AO3. This one was originally published in the fanzine "For the Love of Al Issue 2", May, 2003. No betas were harmed in the making of this fic. All mistakes are mine.

**“Slip slidin’ away, Slip slidin’ away,**   
**You know the nearer your destination,**   
**The more you’re slip slidin’ away…”1**

**May 17, 1998**

“Stop that.”

“What?”

“What you’re doing. It’s quite distracting.”

“Good. . .that’s what I was aiming for.”

The older man straightened his striped tie and sighed. “Be nice, Samuel. And please get dressed.”

“I haven’t taken my shower yet,” the younger man pouted.

Adjusting his onyx cufflinks, Edward St. John, the fifth (as he was fond of saying) turned to his scampish companion. “Well, make it so. And do hurry. We’re going to be late.”

Sam Beckett, time-traveler extraordinaire, jumped off the bed, and wrapped his arms around his lover’s waist, kissing him behind his left ear. “That’s okay. I’m the boss, in case you’ve forgotten.” Nuzzling Edward’s neck, he added, “I make the rules, so I can break the rules.”

The British gentleman did his best to ignore Sam’s incessant nibbling of his left earlobe; it wasn’t the easiest thing to do. “If you break any more rules, my boy, Washington will be on our case again,” he reminded the good doctor.

Heaving a put-upon sigh, Sam muttered, “You can be such a stuffed shirt when you want to be, Eddie.”

It took all his resolve, but Edward pulled out of his lover’s grasp. Smoothing down the lines of his jacket, he pointedly looked at his friend. “Shower, Samuel.”

Taking the hint, Sam shrugged and complained, “Awww, you’re no fun anymore,” and started padding down the hallway.

“Breakfast?” Edward called out to the retreating naked figure.

Sam paused at the linen closet to grab a couple of towels. “Whatever you’re having is okay,” he answered.

“Tea, poached eggs and toast,” came the response.

“Ick,” was Sam’s only comment, before he disappeared into the bathroom.

Edward followed the same path Sam had taken just moments ago, stopping once he reached the closed door. “I thought you said whatever. . .fine, Samuel, what do YOU want?”

The door cracked open, and a head with unruly hair popped out. “I think there are a few donuts left.”

Edward heaved his own put-upon sigh. “Samuel, you are NOT eating donuts for breakfast again.”

“Danish?” he asked, hopefully.

But Edward wasn’t buying. “No.”

“Pop-Tarts?” he tried.

Edward stood firm. “No.”

Knowing he wasn’t going to budge his lover that morning, Sam conceded defeat—his sweet tooth was to remain unappeased. “Well, there’s some fresh melon in the fringe. And cereal?”

The Brit smiled, and nodded his approval. “It’ll be waiting for you.” Running his fingers through the younger man’s silky hair, he pulled him in for a quick kiss before pleading with him. “ Now hurry, my love.”

Sam gave him a broad smile, then ducked back into the bathroom.

*** * * * * * * * * ***

  
Dr. Edward St. John went about preparing breakfast for him and his lover in the same, methodical way he went about everything in his life. Order and precision…the rules he lived by. So unlike Samuel. Sam was an absolute slob. In fact, almost everything about Sam was in direct opposition to Edward. Sam liked rock and roll; Edward liked opera. Sam liked science fiction; Edward liked a good Agatha Christie mystery. Sam was a serious junk food junkie; Edward was a health food nut. Sam liked Levi’s and Nikes; Edward liked Armani and Allen Edmonds. Sam was brash, confident, and spontaneous; Edward was cautious, deliberate, and precise. Sam was a total free spirit; Edward was diligent and fussy. Sam was adventurous in bed; Edward was. . .well, over the years he had learned to be adventurous, too.

When they first started dating, everyone said it wouldn’t last. While it was true that opposites attract, there WAS a limit. But here it was, nearly ten years later, and they were still happily together. They worked together. They lived together. They loved together. It was a wonderful life.

Ten years! If Edward stopped to think about it, he’d shake his head in amazement. Edward was a visiting professor, miles away from his home at Oxford University, when his path crossed Sam’s for the first time at M.I.T, 1975. He was intrigued with Sam’s genius, and to be brutally honest, his looks. But Sam was a student, and he was a teacher, and besides, what made him think Sam would even ‘go that way’? No, the situation was too dangerous to try anything.

The next time was at Project Destiny’s Dream. The autumn of 1982. Edward was on the wrong side of 40 and leaving; Sam wasn’t even thirty yet, and arriving. St. John had remembered the young prodigy, and when his term as director was up, he recommended Sam for the position. They got to spend a few magical weeks together, as Edward showed Sam the ropes of his new job. Sam was fascinated by the older man, and often questioned him about his experiences and his homeland.

Edward, meanwhile, was also fascinated with Sam, noting that he had gotten even better looking in the past seven years. However, he still didn’t make a move, could not admit his attraction to the younger man, not knowing how Sam would take his advances. Even with those barriers, they bonded instantly, and became fast friends, much to the amusement of co-workers and associates. The original odd-couple.

When the time came to leave, St. John began regretting his decision to go, but Beckett was insistent in his belief that someday they’d meet again. Neither knew it would be another six years before Sam’s prophecy came true.

Stockholm, 1988. At 35, Dr. Samuel Beckett was accepting the Nobel Prize in Physics, for his groundbreaking theories in the space/time continuum, while working at Project Destiny’s Dream. Time Magazine was already dubbing him ‘The Next Einstein’, much to Sam’s chagrin. Edward, now 48, with a few more gray hairs, (and a few more failed affairs under his belt) was at the reception, when Sam wandered over, glass of champagne in his hand, wide grin on his face.

Edward couldn’t help but notice that Samuel was not just even more handsome than ever before; he was also more confident, with an almost noble bearing. He walked right up to the older man, and asked, “Can I buy you a drink?” Several drinks later, he stunned his former mentor by asking, “Can I buy you breakfast?”

And just like that, Sam seduced the staid St. John...thirteen years after they met. Since then, Edward always enjoyed breakfast just a bit more than he used to.

Sam took that moment to waltz in kitchen--towel around his shoulders, towel around his waist--shuffling through the morning mail. “Bill, bill, bill…”

“SAMUEL! You didn’t go out to the mailbox dressed like that, did you?” Edward scolded.

The younger man plopped down at the table, a bowl of Frosted Flakes in front of him. “Of COURSE not. . .I put on a pair of flip-flops first.”

“Oh, Samuel,” St. John tsked.

“OH, Eddie,” his lover shot back, in the same disappointed tone, then he laughed. Wordlessly, he was handed the pitcher of milk from the fridge. Looking up at his partner, he spoke reverently, “You remembered. . .”

“I’ve only lived with you for 10 years. I should hope I’d know that you hate soggy corn flakes. Cup, please?” Sam passed his mug over, so that his British prince could work his magic. First he poured the hot water from an old copper kettle he carted over from England into a porcelain teapot that had been in his family for generations, before adding the little metal ball containing his special blend of tealeaves. It was a routine Sam had watched day in and day out, and he never got bored of it. NOTHING could match Eddie’s breakfast tea.

After brewing for a few minutes, the tea was ready, and Sam was soon handed a cup of the delicious nectar. “Thanks, honey,” he said, gratefully.

St. John, misinterpreting the endearment, passed him the jar of honey from the kitchen counter. Sam, baffled, starts, “No, I meant. . .”

“Oh.” St. John smiled, comprehending what his handsome lover just said. “Thank YOU.” He turned back to the counter to fix his own cup of tea, and await his toast to pop up. “So, anything besides bills?”

“A couple of mail order catalogs. . .clothing, sporting goods, odds and ends, one for some interesting marital aids.”

“You must be joking.”

Chuckling, Sam muttered, “Damn you, Eddie. . .can’t you be a BIT more gullible?”

“I shall try,” Edward all but smirked, as he buttered his toast. “Just for you, my dear.”

Sam couldn’t help it--he stuck his tongue out at his lover before he continued, “Oh, and there’s this. Who’s Rebecca Shore?”

The older man hoped his bristling at the name would not be noticed. “Rebecca? Why do you ask?”

Holding up a bright, white parchment envelope, Sam commented, “Looks like a wedding invitation. London postmark. Anyone I know?”

St. John gathered up his breakfast, and sat down at the table. “She’s, ahh, she’s my niece.” Taking the letter from Sam’s grasp, he carefully opened it, and removed the card it contained.  
“I didn’t know you had a niece.”

“Yes, the daughter of my brother, Adam.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“Not funny, Samuel.” St. John’s family was a touchy subject. In all the years they had been together, the topic hadn’t been broached more than a handful of times, and Edward had never gone back to England to visit them. Holidays were spent either alone, just the two of them, or, if money and time allowed, in Hawaii, with Sam’s mother, and his sister, Katie. This time, however, it didn’t appear that Edward would get out of the discussion so easily.

“Sorry. So, want me to call the airlines?”

Poking at his eggs, Edward scoffed, “Whatever for?”

“How else are we getting to England? Swim?”

“We’re not going. Matter closed.” Or so he thought.

“Eddie. . .it’s your niece’s wedding,” Sam argued. “Of COURSE you’re going.”

“Samuel, you don’t understand. I’ve always been the black sheep of the family.”

That caused the younger man to smile; he knew that feeling, too. “I knew there was a reason we got along so well.”

“Besides,” St. John said, as he slowly stirred his tea, “I’m sure she only invited me because Adam told her to.”

“And it would be rude not to take Adam up on the offer.”

“Samuel. . .” he sighed.

“By the way, I spoke to MOM the other day,” Sam said, purposely emphasizing the word. “She says hi.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing…just that I’ve never met anyone in your family, and you’ve practically become a member of mine, that’s all.”

The older man stopped stirring his tea and stared at his young lover. “You want me to take you to this wedding and introduce you around, don’t you?”

The young man shrugged, digging into his cornflakes. “Sure. Why not? It’s a perfect opportunity. I can meet them all in one shot.”

“I can’t do that, Samuel,” Edward answered, regretfully.

“You’re ashamed of me? Of us?”

“Of course not!”

“Oh, then that means only one thing. . .” He put down his spoon, and turned to his lover, “They don’t know about me, do they?”

Taking a sip of his tea, the older man sighed, “No, they don’t.”

“Do they even know you’re gay?” Sam demanded.

St. John gave a small, humorless chuckle, “Yes, though I wish they didn’t. It did nothing to endear me to them, I can assure you.”

Popping a piece of the fresh honeydew melon in his mouth, the young doctor argued, “Eddie, it’s been years since you’ve been back home. You should go--see your family again. If only to keep the peace.”

“And what about you?”

“Well, I’d like to go. I’ve never been to England. But you’re right--a wedding is not the right time to parade around your male lover. It would just make everything awkward.”

They both sat quietly for a few minutes, eating their meals, when St. John finally broke the silence. “I’d so love you to see the old manor. The grounds are lovely this time of year.”

Sam felt his heart flip over with love for the man sitting across from him, but instead of turning the moment mushy, flashed a rakish smile and replied, “Personally, I’d prefer seeing Liverpool.”

Edward laughed, as Sam knew he would. “I hate to disappoint you, hon, but the Beatles are long gone. And the city has all the charm of Cleveland.”

“I know, but I still want to see it. Besides, I like Cleveland.”

St. John finished off his toast, then asked, curiously, “When was the last time we took a vacation, Samuel?”

Finishing his melon, Sam pretended to think for a moment before answering, “Two years, six months, and a handful of days. We went to Hawaii to visit Katie for Thanksgiving.”

“Two and a half years. I think that’s too long between breaks, wouldn’t you say, Sam?”

“Definitely too long,” he agreed.

“What say, we go to that wedding, knock some socks off, and then I’ll give you the grand tour of my Motherland?”

Sam was almost knocked speechless. “Are you serious, Eddie? I mean, you know I’m just being a brat, and you don’t have to. . .”

Nodding primly, Edward concluded, “Yes, yes I do. I think it’s high time my family met the man I love. And see what a fine catch I landed for myself.”

Sam jumped up, and flung his arms around his lover. “Oh, Eddie. . .that sounds great! I can’t wait!” Leaning down, he showed his gratitude with a deep, heartfelt kiss.

“Well, you’ll have to wait a bit longer,” Edward managed to get out as he pulled his lips away from Sam’s. “We still have work to do.”

“Work?” the young physicist spit the word out like something distasteful.

“Samuel, the wedding isn’t for three weeks. That gives us plenty of time to complete one more leap before we fly over.”

“But I don’t wanna. I’m tired, Eddie. Can’t we just blow it off for now?”

“We could, but Gooshie would be so disappointed. He’s worked so quite hard to get Ziggy prepped for your next leap. You wouldn’t want to hurt Dr. Gushman’s feelings, would you?”

“You play dirty, Eddie. But you’re not the only one.” In one graceful motion, Sam fell down on to his knees, and began undoing his lover’s suit jacket.

“Samuel! Whatever do you think you’re doing?”

Coat unbuttoned, Sam started undoing Edward’s belt buckle. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he asked innocently, as his fingers grasped the little zipper tab.

“We do not have time for these shenanigans, Samuel! Now, just be a good boy, and go get dressed.”

By now, the zipper was undone and Sam was fishing around inside the boxers for the prize he knew he’d find in there. It was no use--while St. John was doing his best to bluster and protest, his body was singing a different tune. Sam gave a smile--he loved to have fun at Eddie’s expense. “But I AM being a good boy,” he insisted. “See?” And with that, he lowered his head, taking his lover’s cock deep into his mouth and throat.

Edward was lost from the moment of first contact. “Oh, yes. . .a VERY good boy indeed.” After that, all he could do was moan deliriously, and hang on for the ride.

*** * * * * * * * * ***

  
**LATER, AT THE PROJECT. . .**

“Isn’t it a beautiful day in the neighborhood?” I asked the gorgeous blonde about to take my pulse. “Almost as beautiful as you, my dear.”

“You’re in an awfully good mood today, Dr. Beckett,” Tina Martinez-Gushman giggled, as her tiny hand wrapped around my wrist. “You got laid this morning, didn’t you?”

Sometimes her frankness still throws me off. “Does it show?”

“Oh, not TOO much,” she teased. “Was it good?”

“It’s ALWAYS good,” I laughed. “But this morning was. . .” I paused, and let out a huge satisfied sigh.

She released my hand, and placed her fingertips against my carotid artery. “I may have to try out Eddie myself sometime,” she joked. “See what all the hubbub is about.”

I smirked. “Only if I can watch.”

“Dr. Beckett!” she squealed, and slapped my shoulder playfully.

“Is he giving you trouble again, honey?” Gushie joined us to see what all the giggling was about.

“Of COURSE I’m giving her a hard time. What do you think I pay her for?”

Gushie just crossed his arms over his chest. “How many times have I told you not to pick on my wife?”

“More times than Ziggy can count,” I retorted. “But I have a reason today--I gotta get two weeks of teasing in.”

Tina asked, “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I managed to convince Eddie that I need a vacation, so, once this leap is over, we are on our way to England.”

“Oooh, that sounds wonderful,” the young lady cooed. “A second honeymoon?”

“Uh-huh,” I answered, smugly. “And if you guys play your cards right, I just may shut down the project so EVERYONE can go on vacation.”

Next thing I knew I was wrapped up in the softest, sweetest smelling arms I had ever known. “Yippee!” Tina yelped, as she hugged me like there was no tomorrow.

“You spilled the beans, didn’t you Samuel?” came Eddie’s stern condemnation from behind me.

I pulled away from Tina, and looked over at my lover, guiltily. “I guess I did. I’m sorry, but I’m just so excited.”

A smile crossed his handsome face. “I am, too, Samuel. But, work first. Play later.”

“That’s not what *I* heard,” Tina giggled.

Don’t know who got redder--me or Eddie. “You TOLD her?” he asked, incredulously. When my blushing did all my talking for me, he just shook his head, and mumbled, “You are INCORRIGIBLE, Samuel.”

*** * * * * * * * * ***

  
Some last minute checks through Ziggy, to make sure everything was up and operational, and it was time to go. As I was heading towards the Accelerator, I passed by Eddie, and I couldn’t resist pulling him in for a passionate kiss. I was still feeling giddy from the morning’s activities, plus I was high on the idea of going of our upcoming romantic get-away. It was amazing I could even still function.

Eddie was somewhat taken aback of such an open display in public, but he easily melted into my embrace. As we parted, I smiled and told him, “I’ll be back, soon.”

The softness in those beautiful eyes twinkled, as he sighed, “Hurry, Sam. I miss you already.” I felt my heart flutter--Eddie doesn’t get all warm and cuddly often, but when he does, it’s a good one. With one last goodbye kiss to his cheek, I was on my way.

*** * * * * * * * * ***

  
The leap looked like it would be a difficult one emotionally, but one with an easy solution. I had leaped into a young navy ensign named ‘Bingo’ Calavicci. In the first timeline, according to St. John, he was apparently found guilty of the rape and murder of a woman, Marcy Riker. Bingo had proclaimed his innocence until the day he died in the gas chamber, three years hence. My job was to keep the young man away from Marcy, therefore saving both of their lives.

But the best laid plans. . .

Apparently since I (that is, Bingo) was on a short leash with Admiral Whitehead, after getting caught in the back seat of his car with the commanding officer’s barely legal daughter, I spent most of my two days with Chip, Bingo’s best friend and roommate. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. If I was in my room, I couldn’t get in trouble, right?

Wednesday and Thursday went smoothly--it was easy to convince him to stay at the barracks, and play cards with me. But when Friday rolled around, he wanted to go out. I figured, fine, as long as I stick with him, and don’t talk to any strange women, I won’t connect with Marcy.

Well, THAT didn’t last long. A beautiful, statuesque brunette gravitated to our table almost from the moment we walked into the club. I learned from Chip’s greeting her name was Lisa. . .I learned from our first dance together that her and Bingo were much more than friends, regardless of the wedding band on her left hand.

As we continued to dance, and I continued to avoid her roaming hands, I noticed Chip wander over to a blond by the bar. They seemed to have a heated conversation, then she suddenly stormed off, heading to the Ladies’ Room. I somehow managed to extricate myself from Lisa and made my way over to Chip. When I asked him what happened, his answer shocked me, “Marcy didn’t want to talk to me.”

The blond was Marcy! This wasn’t good. I had to get out of there, away from her. If I wasn’t around her, I couldn’t kill her, even though, from what I could see of Bingo’s life, I was leaning towards believing his story. I doubted he was guilty of Marcy’s death. Lisa was far too intent on getting Bingo to the Sea Breeze Hotel. That sixth sense I had developed while leaping told me he had probably taken her up on her offer the first time around, and was nowhere near Marcy when she died. How Bingo ended up tried for the crime was not my concern…my only concern was getting back to the barracks, as quickly as possible.

But then again, if Bingo didn’t do it, who did? Maybe I should try to get her out of there, too. If she was home, safe, then she couldn’t be murdered.

By this time, Lisa had made her way over to us. After mulling over all the variables for a few seconds, I came up with a solution, one that would probably work. “Hey, Lisa, what say we go somewhere less noisy?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do all night, lover,” she purred, seductively.

Turning to Chip, I said, “Me and Lisa are gonna cut outta here? Wanna come along?”

I don’t know who was more stunned by my invite, but Chip just laughed, “Hey, thanks, Bingo, but three’s a crowd, you know?”

Turning to the beauty beside me, I poured on the charm, “Honey, don’t you have a friend for my buddy here? What about Marcy?” hoping the two girls knew each other.

“Are you serious, Al?” she asked.

After seeing Bingo’s lethal smile in the mirror over the last couple of days, I flashed it with all might. “Guy’s gotta look out for his buddy, right? Can’t leave him here alone on a Friday night.”

Giving me a very passionate kiss, she sighed, “I’ll never understand you, Bingo.” And with that, she wandered off to talk to the absent blonde.

In less than 20 minutes, the four of us were enjoying pizza and a pitcher of beer at a local pizzeria. While I’m sure it wasn’t the way any of us planned on spending the night (especially Lisa), we played music in the jukebox, danced and laughed, and had a great time. As the night was winding down, I convinced Chip we should drive the girls home, then we better head back to the base, before I broke curfew. Knowing how precariously I was holding on with the Admiral, he readily agreed. After giving the girls a goodnight kiss, we were on our way.  
It was shortly after 11:00 when we got back. Chip was in the bathroom, chatting about what a great time he had had, when I felt the first tingles of an impending leap out. What ever I did seemed to have done the trick--the leap was complete, hopefully with everything fixed. I’d soon learn, once Eddie gave me the wrap-up.

I stepped out of the Accelerator, but uncharacteristically, Eddie wasn’t there to greet me. Gooshie was there; so was Tina. Verbina Beeks, our staff psychologist was at her usual station, monitoring everything. But, who was that strange man beside her? A liaison from Washington, maybe? Not in THAT outfit, he wasn’t!

He strolled up to me as I was struggling to unzip my Fermi suit (I really should order some that zip up the front), and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Another job well done, Sammy boy.”

Sammy! No one EVER calls me Sammy. “May I help you?” I asked, politely.

“Cute, Sammy. ‘May I help you?’ As a matter of fact, you can, Dr. Beckett. I’m in need of a serious tongue lashing.” And with that, he pulled my head down, and kissed me!

I yanked myself away, not an easy feat considering the man had a set of lips on him that could set your soul on fire, and snapped, “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Sorry, kid…didn’t know I had to ask permission to kiss my husband hello.”

Husband? Did he just say. . .? “What’s going. . .I mean, where. . .where’s Eddie?”

He glowered. “Eddie? Who the hell is Eddie?”

“Edward St. . .” I never got the rest of it out. I heard shouts of “Sam!” and “Catch him!” and “Oh my God!”. . .

And then the world went black.

*** * * * * * * * * ***

**“God only knows, and God makes his plan,**   
**The information’s not available**   
**To the mortal man,**   
**We work our jobs, collect our pay,**   
**Believe we’re gliding down the highway,**   
**When if fact we’re slip slidin’ away.” 1**

**SIX WEEKS LATER. . .**

Gone. He was gone, without a trace. Like he never existed. In this timeline, who knows? Maybe he never did.

No, I had to believe he was out there, somewhere. I only hoped he was happy. . .as happy as we were the first time around. Oh, we were so happy together.

A knock at the door. Al entered, without being asked. That annoyed me, probably as much as I used to annoy Eddie when I did it to him. “Can I come in Sam?”

“A little late to ask,” I only half-joked.

“You wanna be alone, huh?”

I shrugged, “Don’t know. Maybe.”

He plopped himself down on the leather sofa next to the door, and put his feet up on the scuffed up coffee table. Well, at least now I knew HOW it got scuffed up. Pulling out a cigar, he made a big production about lighting it, before he turned his attention back to me and asked, gently, “You’re thinking of him again, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” God, I HATED those cigars, but he got so defensive when I mentioned it.

Nodding slightly, he said, rather than questioned, “You still miss him.”

“Gee, you’re very observant tonight,” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

If he heard it, though, he ignored it. “That’s what I’m paid to do…observe,” he responded, with a know-it-all smirk.

“And you do it well,” I had to concede. He DID, too. I had been on a couple of leaps since, well. . .the incident. . .and he was every bit as competent, and a lot funnier, than Eddie had been.

Taking a deep drag on his cigar, and blowing it out in little smoke rings, he queried, “So, what were you thinking about?”

It was said so conversationally, not like an inquisition. He could make me feel so comfortable when he wanted to. I swallowed over the lump in my throat and told him, “Yesterday. . .it would’ve been our 10th anniversary.”

He put the cigar down in a small ashtray on the table and sighed, “Aww, jeez, I’m sorry, Sam. Ten years…damn, that’s a long time.”

I just nodded, feeling the tears prickling at my eyes. “Yeah.”

Clasping his hands, he dropped his eyes, muttering, “I’m sorry, Sam. If it weren’t for me. . .”

“No. It wasn’t you. Just the luck of the draw,” I assured him, as I swiveled in my chair to face my desk once more. We had never talked about this. It was just too painful. But for once, I was in the mood to talk about Eddie, let this man know what I had lost. “It was supposed to be my last leap, you know. Well, not my LAST one ever, just. . .we were going on vacation when I got back. His niece was getting married. I was finally going to England to meet his family. . .he was even going to take me to Liverpool. I was so tired, and stressed. ‘Just one more leap, Samuel, then we’ll go away together.’ He promised.”

I heard an intake of air, and knew he had picked up the cigar again. “Maybe. . .maybe you should try to find him. Ziggy could do it. . .”

A pencil on my desk caught my attention; I picked it up and started toying with it. “What would be the point? He wouldn’t know me. Wouldn’t know what we shared.”

“You’re still young, Sam. . .you could teach him,” he explained to me, his voice soft and full of compassion.

I just shook my head ruefully. “It wouldn’t work. I don’t want to mess with *His* master plan.”

“What do you mean, *His*?”

“You know. . .” and I pointed heavenwards.

“*His*?” he asked again, with astonishment. “You mean God?”

“Yeah. Obviously, *He* wants me here, with you. Or *He* wouldn’t have arranged for this to happen. I don’t know why, but *He* must have some idea.”

I heard the mashing of the cigar in the ashtray before footsteps crossed the room and he was taking a seat by my desk. Folding his hands on the corner, he studied me for a second, plainly trying to decide how he should say what was on his mind. Finally, he took a deep breath and asked, “Do you know what happened? When the timelines split? What changed your life this time around?”

I halfway anticipated this question. It was the first thing I had Ziggy look up. “Uh-huh. . . Starbright. I didn’t work on Starbright the first time. I was at M.I. T. in 1984, when I got a letter from Edward. He was leaving his position at Project Destiny’s Dream.”

“Huh--never heard of it. What was their mission?” he asked, curiously.

“They were planning missions into deep space--wanted to explore the idea of studying dark matter. Lots of physics and theoretical extrapolations.”

“Dark matter, huh? Why didn’t they just call it Project Black Hole? It’d be more accurate. Then again, I guess ALL government projects could be called black holes. Could get kind of confusing on the Hill during budget time.”

I had to laugh. Al had a wonderful, sardonic sense of humor. “Anyway, as I was saying, he was leaving, and recommended me for the job. I got to work with him a few weeks before he left, and there was a real attraction. When I met up with him again a few years later at the Nobel ceremonies, I acted on that attraction. But this time. . .”

“I got to you first, and recommended you for Starbright instead,” he cut in.

I nodded. “A few months before I would have gotten Edward’s letter. And this time, when we met up with him in Stockholm. . .”

He interrupted again, “We were already lovers, and you weren’t available.”

“I’m sorry, Al. I don’t remember. Everything you tell me. . .I know it’s the truth. But not for me. It didn’t happen to me.”

“Yes it did, Sam. And somewhere, in that genius mind of yours, it’s safely tucked away. Hopefully, someday you’ll remember it all.”

“I don’t know if I want to remember.”

A stricken look passed over Al’s eyes--he was clearly hurt by what I had just said, and I instantly wanted to take it back. “I see. Well, I know when I’m not wanted. I’ll just go,” and he began to get up to go.

I placed a hand on his forearm to stop him, and he flinched at my touch. “Al, please don’t take that the wrong way. It has nothing to do with you. Really.” I could see the skepticism in his face, and figured it was time to come clean with my ‘friend’. It wasn’t that Al was a BAD man--in fact, for an older man, he was quite handsome, the good looks of his youth weathering the years quite well. And he seemed to have a genuinely good heart. But, unfortunately, he wasn’t my Sinjin.

“It’s just. . .I don’t want to forget Eddie. If I remember this timeline, I’m afraid I’ll lose him forever. And yet, sometimes, I lay awake at night, and wish I could forget he ever existed.”

He gave a small chuckle, “No you don’t.”

“How would you know?”

“Because. . .it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”

His answer took me by surprise, and I’m sure it could be heard in my voice. “Al--I never would’ve taken you for a philosopher.”

Again, the chuckle. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, kid.” His eyes twinkled, and his mouth quirked in a small, sad smile. “Do you want to hear a story, about a great love won and lost?”

I cocked my head. “Sure. Why not? Misery loves company, right?”

His left hand covered mine, the same one that still had a grasp of his right forearm. He looked down at our hands together, then started relating: “Many years ago, I met a wonderful girl. Her name was Beth. God, I was nuts about her, enough so that I married her. I thought it was a love for the ages. But it wasn’t meant to be. I was shot down during my second tour of Vietnam, and captured by the enemy. While I was a POW, thoughts of her kept me alive. Kept me going, kept me sane. Helped me face another day, counting down each hour until we were together again. It was only when I was rescued that I learned I had lost her during those years in captivity.”

“Oh, Al. . .I’m sorry.” And I was. I knew about his POW years--it came up on the history I requested of Ziggy--but the rest of it was all news to me.

He shrugged, nonchalantly, although I’m sure he didn’t mean it. “Hey, it happens.”

I just shook my head in disbelief at the horridness of it. “Jesus, to not know your wife had died. . .”

That got a derisive snort from my guest. “Died? I wish. No, she declared me dead, and married some sleazebag lawyer.”

“Oh.” (Well, what would YOU say?)

He wasn’t quite done with me yet, as he continued, “But I still loved her, you know? Or rather, I loved what she had become in my mind. She was probably never as perfect as I had built her up to be, but I was convinced she was a goddess, and I wanted her back. So I spent the next 12 years looking for someone just like her, someone as perfect as the woman I believed I loved.”

I found myself caught up in his tale of misery. “And did you find her?”

“In a way. . .the day I met you.” His hand tightened around mine, as if afraid I’d pull away. Or maybe to assure me that his feelings hadn’t changed. My gaze was fixed on his face, his eyes shining with adoration, and love; clouded with agony, and grief. He had the most beautiful, most expressive eyes I had ever seen. It was plain to see that no matter what had happened these past few weeks, no matter the pain I had put him through, he still loved me. What kind of man was Al that he would put my well being over his? Who could still care for me, and want me, no matter what? How can someone love someone that much? And why, suddenly, did I want to know?

He closed his eyes briefly, and when he looked back at me, it was all gone--he was as inscrutable as the Sphinx. “Al.” I began, but he put up his hand and stopped me.

“Sam. I know we haven’t talked about that day, when you leaped back. I promised myself I wouldn’t rush you, or push you in any way. But it’s been over a month, and you’re still avoiding me.”

“Al.” I tried again, only to be stopped once again by the look on his face.

“No, kid, hear me out.” I found my hand clasped in both of his. Smaller than mine, and rough from trials of a hard life I had only a glimpse of. “You were my lover, Sam, for nearly fourteen years. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’m lonely without you. I miss you terribly, and not just between the sheets, okay? I miss your company. I miss your friendship. I don’t care if I get the rest of it back.” He paused in his ranting and gave a hearty laugh, “Oh hell, yeah, I DO care. We were good together, Sam. Damn good. You can’t even imagine how good. But I’d give it all up in a heartbeat just to have your friendship again.”

I found myself once more lost in his dark brown eyes, hanging onto his every word. “And Sammy. . .Eddie will never be forgotten. He’ll always be here--“ he let go of my hand to touch my chest, right over my heart, “--just like you’re in mine. And those memories will feed your soul, and bring you peace. I oughtta know--I wouldn’t give up one minute of our time together for all the gold in the world.”

He let go of my hand, and stood up. Clasping my shoulder in a friendly, protective manner, he smiled down at me. “You take care, kid, and remember. . .if you ever need to bend someone’s ear, I got two. No waiting.”

With that, having said everything that he had come to say, he slapped me on my shoulder a couple of times, and turned to walk out of my office, and I feared, out of my life. He left no doubt—the ball was now in my court--and it was my decision what to do with it. I didn’t have to think long. “Al. . .wait. . .” I called out.

He stopped, and turned back to me. “Yeah?” he asked, curiously.

I started to stand. “Can I. . .can I buy you a beer?”

“Nah.”

“Oh.” I felt my knees give out, and I sat down once more. I had blown it. Whatever ‘might have been’ would never be known now.

“I. . .ah. . .I don’t drink anymore,” he told me, with a grin. “But I could go for a nice cup of coffee. Gerard’s Diner okay?”

I released the huge breath I was holding. “Sounds great. Let me get my coat.”

Grabbing my jacket off the rack in the corner of my office, I stopped to think about what I was doing. Was I diminishing what Eddie and I had? No. But you can only live in the past so long, especially a past that didn’t even exist for anyone except you. Al may not be Eddie, but he was a good man, and a good friend. And yes, a man I could learn to love, perhaps, someday. I hoped.

Jean jacket on, I crossed the room towards Al. He gave me a huge smile, and threw his arm around my shoulder. “You know, Louie, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” he laughed.

Or maybe, Al, even more. . .

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> FOOTNOTES:  
> 1\. "Slip Slidin' Away", words and music by Paul Simon. Copyright 1977.


End file.
